


black springs

by themajorarcana



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, The Phantom of the Opera (TV 1990)
Genre: F/M, Gen, pretty much sorrowful love with a tinge of tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themajorarcana/pseuds/themajorarcana
Summary: "He knows that sooner or later this decay which he carries in his heart will taint her soul."EC; based on the 1990's Yeston/Kopit version, but strongly contains Leroux elements.





	black springs

> i. **aegri somnia**
> 
>  
> 
> This is surely what Pygmalion must have felt when he had first laid eyes on Galatea. His work - his matter -  and yet not. 
> 
> Christine is pale and plain in compared to the other ladies in the Operá - it is a mixture of her simple taste and her poverty he knows - and her face has still that tell-tale signs of childish puberty; her form gentle but not as graceful as one imagines. For she is shy so she gets clumsy. When he looked at her, she thought her all-soft; yet when he held her hands for the first time he was surprised to find that her palm was coarse, callous and dry. Hers were working and battered hands. 
> 
> "Oh" he wants to say, because she does not pull her hand away. 
> 
> But his voice dies in his throat. This is a very rare phenomenon.
> 
> Because there, there, in her eyes, the lights lit up - the same which blends in her voice, the heavens - and she looks at her clear and with such a blaze that he might shield his eyes in this cavern of his and shut himself away with his cavernous, greed-black heart. The light that pours from her is enough. And yet not. 
> 
> She has always been unreachable, this Christine Daaé, the Swedish girl with a trust to infinite. Blinding, maddening, not-his Christine. 
> 
> Yes, only Pygmalion might know what he feels as she sings next to him, her profile twisting his thoughts away from their proper route.
> 
> Loving is unraveling.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ii.  **tête-à-tête**
> 
>  
> 
> "He knows nothing. I swear, I do." she chants and pleads. Her eyes hold no tears but her tone is weeping.
> 
> There is a thing that breaks. It might be his will. Either way. The phantom releases the Comte. Eric absolves Christine.
> 
> Loving is surrendering.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> iii. **libertate quietem**
> 
>  
> 
> His hands are elegant, with all-bone but delicate fingers. The skin between his thumb and index is a bit rougher and thicker than the rest, no doubt from the violin. It is not an unpleasant kind of coarseness.
> 
> There is also a scar on his wrist that looks like a tipsy crotchet. And, as she would later find out, there are more scars, a sea of them, that look like nothing at all, that make him look nothing like a whole one. 
> 
> But like his voice and his eyes, his hands remain holy.
> 
> "He killed with those hands" she chides herself, sobering up. 
> 
> Yet she feels forgiveness coming when she feels them trembling against her own. 


End file.
